


True North

by antonomasia09



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Force-Sensitive CC-6454 | Ponds, Force-Sensitive Clones (Star Wars), Humor, M/M, Mentioned Boba Fett, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antonomasia09/pseuds/antonomasia09
Summary: Jango Fett attempts to assassinate Mace Windu for approximately the hundredth time. Ponds would really like him to stop doing that, please.
Relationships: CC-6454 | Ponds/Mace Windu
Comments: 23
Kudos: 502
Collections: Fun/Humour/Crack in a Galaxy Far Far Away, Mace Windu Rare Pairs





	True North

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [chart and compass](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23105296) by [blackkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat). 



> This is a sort of prequel to "chart and compass" by blackkat, who was nice enough to let me play with her universe. Thanks to [alyyks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyyks/pseuds/alyyks) for beta reading and for making this much better!

When Mace casually ducks to the side, letting the sniper bolt slam into the dirt behind him, Ponds grits his teeth and growls under his breath, cursing bounty hunters and also the stupid _jetii_ who didn’t cut their heads off when they had the chance.

Said Jedi is now standing very stiffly, having no doubt aggravated the blaster wounds on his side from yesterday’s battle when he dodged the shot, but Ponds can’t see any new holes in him.

There’s no point sending men to the treeline to search for Fett; by now, he’ll be long gone, as usual. Ponds sends them anyway.

“This is the sixth time in three weeks,” he tells Mace, who raises an eyebrow at him.

“It’s a good thing I picked up extra action figures in that market on Coruscant,” Mace says.

Ponds rolls his eyes. He knows Mace has been looking for the loudest and most obnoxiously cheesy ones to send to Boba after each failed assassination by Jango. 

“It’s probably not wise to antagonize Fett even more.”

“I deserve some entertainment as compensation for all these attempts on my life,” Mace says. “Besides, I don’t think it’s possible for him to hate me any more than he already does.”

Ponds doesn’t even dignify that with a response. “Six times in three weeks,” he repeats. “Shouldn’t we be doing something about it?”

“I’m not difficult to locate,” Mace points out. It’s true; the GAR keeps meticulous records of deployments, and Jedi engaging Separatist droids on the battlefield aren’t at all subtle.

“Maybe you should be,” Ponds argues. “It wouldn’t look good for the former head of the Council to be assassinated by the genetic template for the men he commands.”

“He hasn’t succeeded yet,” Mace says, and if anything, he sounds amused. “Besides, I trust you to keep me safe.”

That puts a warm fluttery feeling in Ponds’ chest, even if he doesn’t deserve it, given his failure to anticipate the attack moments ago. There’s another feeling too, though, a wariness he can’t justify or pin down a source for.

“He only needs to get lucky once,” Ponds mutters.

They reach Mace’s tent and duck inside. It takes Ponds’ eyes a moment to adjust to the darker interior, but the moment they do, he stiffens in alarm.

Fett didn’t run, like he normally does. Instead, he snuck into Mace’s tent and is now standing in front of them, his blaster aimed point-blank at Mace, who entered just ahead of Ponds. A laser bolt is hovering in the air between them, held in place by the Force. Mace waves his hand, and the bolt slams harmlessly into the ground.

A glance at Mace reveals that he is looking infuriatingly unperturbed at this development. “What did Boba think of the Commander Cody doll?” he asks.

That gift had been particularly cruel, Ponds thought. Apparently, Fett agrees, if the pure rage detectable in his voice is any indication. All he says, though, is, “It sounds nothing like Cody. And it comes with a lightsaber, not a blaster.”

“It’s General Kenobi’s lightsaber,” Mace explains. “I believe Obi-Wan drops it and Cody picks it up often enough for that to be accurate. Still, if it bothers you, I’ll make sure the toy I send Boba after this encounter involves a blaster.”

Ponds resists the urge to facepalm, instead subtly crossing his arms in order to activate the silent emergency button on his gauntlet. He keeps both eyes on Fett, who has produced a vibroblade in his other hand and looks ready to skewer Mace in addition to blasting his head off.

Mace, at least, has the sense to call his lightsaber to his hand, although the lack of space within the tent will put him at a severe disadvantage during a fight; Mace will need a lot more room to swing his lightsaber than Fett will to shoot or stab him with the blade.

“ _Sir_ ,” Ponds says, pointedly eyeing the injuries hidden beneath Mace’s robes, although hopefully not so pointedly that Fett picks up on Mace’s weakness. “Let me handle this, please.”

Mace acquiesces, taking a step back and allowing Ponds to slip in front of him. Fett doesn’t attack.

“Jango Fett,” Ponds says. “You are under arrest for the attempted murder of a Jedi Master.”

“You don’t have the authority to arrest me,” Fett says.

“Maybe not,” Ponds tells him. “But I have a whole lot of brothers with guns surrounding this tent right now. He shows Fett his gauntlet, which is vibrating lightly to indicate that his emergency message has been received.

Fett curses under his breath and activates his jetpack, shooting straight up into the air and taking the tent fabric with him. All around them, startled troopers take shots, but every one misses, and Fett is quickly out of range.

“Should we try to track him back to his ship?” Stak asks.

Ponds nods. “Make sure he really leaves this time,” he says. Stak salutes and takes a squad to follow the distant figure.

Ponds turns to Mace. “Are you all right, sir?” he says.

“Thanks to you,” Mace says, and the expression on his face is so warm and fond that Ponds’ breath hitches. The only thing that stops him from grabbing his general and kissing the life out of him is the fact that nearly a third of the legion is still standing around watching them.

“Let’s see if we can find you a new tent,” Ponds says. If his voice comes out squeaky, nobody comments.

“Excellent idea,” Mace says, and they make their way to the supply shuttle together.


End file.
